Page 139 of Fire and Icing

“Yes, she has a boyfriend,” Syd answers for me. “The rookie at the fire station. He’s gorgeous and funny, and he only has eyes for your favorite town baker.”

“That’s so sweet,” Anabelle says.

I smile, but I feel a fresh wash of tears threatening to push through.

I look at Syd, “I took the cookies out to cool. I’m grabbing a few for Gran. I just got the call that my place is ready. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Oh. Okay. Sure.”

I turn to the Spences. “Sorry to rush off. It was so good to see you two. Tell Rogan I said hi!” I glance at their pink box full of cookies. “That’s on the house. Syd, don’t charge them.”

“Oh. Okay. Sure.” She gives me a quizzical look.

“Oh, Emberleigh, you don’t have to do that,” Mrs. Spence protests.

“It’s our pleasure. Come back soon. And enjoy the cookies.”

I dash through the kitchen door, grab a Ziplock and bag up a few cookies, and then I nearly run to my car.

When I get back to Gran’s, she’s in the kitchen washing dishes from lunch.

“Gran, my place is ready.”

“Your place?” She pauses, a look of confusion taking over her expression. “Oh! Land sakes. Your house? Well now. I guess that means you’ll be moving out.”

“Yes. I should. It’s my house—where I live. And it’s ready.”

Gran wipes her hands on a dish towel.

“I’m just thinking. My house is finally ready. It feels like I should go back soon. Give Dustin some space while we both sort things out.”

“Of course, it makes sense for you to move back home when your house is ready.” Gran pauses and gets what I can only call a mischievous look on her face. Her eyes nearly twinkle. “I just kinda got used to having you around again.” She pauses, dramatically, in a way only grandmas can do because they have so much practice laying it on thick when they need to. “But don’t you mind me. Children have to move on. Grandchildren too. That’s the way it is in life. And God willin’, a grown woman like me should have a life of her own so she doesn't miss ’em too much.”

“Gran, I’m only going to be a few blocks over. I’ll be here so often you’ll want to take a fly swatter and shoo me out.”

“Only a few blocks?” she muses. “Well now, that’s sort of how Nashville’s only an hour away, isn’t it? Silly me. Well, go ahead then. Pack your stuff.”

“Nice try,” I tell Gran.

“What try? I’m just makin’ a point, Sunshine. Nashville’s still in Tennessee. A man can commute an hour, can’t he?”

“It’s not that, Gran. Musicians don’t live in one city. They tour. And they’re only home for short breaks.”

“Hmmm.”

“That’s all you’re going to say? Hmmm?”

“I’m just thinkin’ about how many musicians I’ve known who’ve had a decent career and didn’t do any tourin’ whatsoever. But maybe that was in my day.”

“Just come out and say what you want to say.”

“I just hope you’re not moving out today because Dustin told you he’s got a big opportunity and you got scared.”

“I’m not. I’m moving out because my house is finished being repaired. People live in their own houses.”

“So they do.”

“So that’s why.”

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